A/N: Again we start right where we left off. Stuff starts moving in this chapter, though, so yeah. Still a lot of fluff, but more drama. Or almost-drama.

There is some drug use and drug references in this chapter, so if that freaks you out please don't read this. But you're a South Park fan, so I'm guessing it won't.

I don't own South Park or any of the songs mentioned.

Big thanks to angeliczara and to all my watchers/subscribers. This is fun for me no matter what, but it's great to know others are enjoying!

I stir the coffee in front of me, even though it's only black. My still-wet hair is piled on top of my head, secured with a clip, and I'm wearing a pair of Carol's jeans and a Terrance and Phillip t-shirt that Kenny still had from fourth grade. Okay, so for once I'm not wearing a skirt. The world won't end. I could get used to this pants thing. I can now sit cross-legged in the chair without fear of flashing anyone.

I suppose that under normal circumstances I should feel completely mortified right now. When I realized that my hair's savior was not Kenny's sister Karen, but his mom Carol, a million thoughts scrambled through my mind, crashing into each other and fighting for vocalization. I mean, there I was, with my peanut-butter-covered head under the bathtub faucet, unable to run and hide. I had just spent the last ten minutes removing gum from my hair, oblivious to the fact that I had been outed for sleeping over. The strange thing was, Carol didn't seem to mind at all. She almost seemed…happy. Not having had what most would call a "normal" upbringing, I wasn't sure at all what kind of etiquette this situation called for.

Turns out I had nothing to worry about. After Kenny sleepily found us laughing and playing hair salon in the bathroom, he went off to find me a dry t-shirt and start making coffee. As I combed the tangles out of my hair, Carol finally introduced herself.

"Well, now that we're past that catastrophe…I'm Carol." She smiles at me, waiting for me to speak, but sleep deprivation and sheer embarrassment steal my voice. "I've heard a lot about you—he really can't shut up about you. I never thought I'd meet you like this, but then again…" The words give way to a laugh. I finally speak.

"Really? He…told you about me?" She meets my eyes and cocks her head at me, studying my features. "I mean…oh, wow, I just sound like an-"

She cuts me off. "He did. And I can see why."

I shake my head to bring myself back to the present. I have gone over that conversation about twenty times in the past half-hour, but I still can't completely figure it out.

"Ren? You've been stirring that coffee for about two minutes, and…it's black." Kenny smirks at me. Carol comes back in the room, carrying a huge plate of toaster waffles and a giant container of maple syrup. I'm starving; I need to get over my weird people-watching-me-eat phobia and just enjoy some waffles. When Carol sits, she pours a puddle of syrup on her plate, takes three waffles, and starts to eat them by tearing pieces off and dipping them into the puddle. No silverware required. Okay, I can do this. I mimic her and start tearing a waffle into tiny pieces. Kenny looks surprised, but doesn't say a word. He only offers me a smile that makes me wish we were still upstairs, alone.

"I'm about halfway finished. I'm actually done with the "school' part but now I have to do so many hours of supervised work. It's a lot of giving old ladies tight perms and cutting outdated mullets into office-appropriate styles, but I still love it." Carol is animated as she tells me about cosmetology school. I can't get over how friendly she is, how easy-going, but Kenny was right—she really is still just a kid. She doesn't look as young as a teenager, now that I'm not half-asleep, but she still doesn't look her age.

Kenny appears to be a strange mix of impatient and amused. He is sitting with his left arm on the table, left hand cradling his right elbow, chin in right hand, staring aimlessly at something (or nothing) on the table near his hand. Carol tells me a story about when Kenny and the boys tried to start a boy band in fourth grade. I tell her a brief version of my childhood story, leaving out the recent death of my brother—that can come out later. She asks me if nuns really hit kids with rulers and I laugh. When I look back at my plate, I realize that I have inhaled four toaster waffles. I look at Kenny and tell him I have to get to class.

Carol gives me a hug as I leave. "You're welcome to come over anytime—no, please come back soon," she says with a smile. I assure her I will and thank her again as Kenny and I walk out the door.

As I'm unlocking the passenger side door, Kenny presses me against the side of the car and surprises me with a kiss that makes me again wish we were somewhere alone and not getting ready to go to class. He pulls away long before I'm ready to break contact, but offers me a conspiratorial smile that almost makes up for it. "I knew the two of you together would be trouble." He now seems ecstatic that Carol and I get along so well. I turn up Broken Social Scene, so Kenny remains quiet for the drive, but I can't help but notice that the smile never leaves his lips.

-XXX-

The hallway of mailboxes at Blair hall is always bustling with activity. Students excitedly open their boxes six days a week, expectant eyes glittering as they peep inside to look for letters and small packages. I usually walk right past this part of the hallway; I don't have anybody back home to write...wherever "back home" is. I have nobody to tell about how I've made fast friends and even faster enemies; nobody to ask for advice about Kenny or my friend Butters or my conflicts with my almost-friend Cartman; nobody to whom I can send contrived letters about how "I'm having fun but classes are keeping me busy!" Most of the time, it doesn't bother me, but after this morning's events, I definitely feel a familiar ache when I think of my lack of family. This emptiness, combined with my pathetic amount of sleep and a hormone hangover, hits me with a sucker punch of exhaustion, and I have to sit down. I perch on the arm of a sofa across from the bank of mailboxes and put my head in my hands.

"R-ren?" I look up to see Butters' concerned and confused eyes. "Wh-what are you wearing? And what's wrong?"

I look down at my outfit, momentarily disconcerted by his question. "Oh! Hey, Buddy. The outfit is a long story. And nothing's wrong." I try on a smile. "I'm just…so tired." I try to stifle a yawn and fail. "I just sat through three classes on a grand total of about two hours of sleep." I stand and stumble; Butters grabs my arm to steady me.

"Well, come upstairs. I-ah, I'm done with school for the day. I'll make you some tea and then m-maybe if you want to hear about it, ah, I'll…" Butters trails off, blushing bright pink.

"Oh, I completely forgot! Tweek and Craig left fast last night to meet you guys at the movie and then…wow, was that really only last night?"

Butters nods as his grin widens. I let him take my by the hand and lead me to the staircase. I can't believe I forgot about his "I'm not alone" text message. I let the idea of sleep fade away; it looks like once again, I have more pressing things on my agenda. Somewhere in my weary brain, a neuron fires: Even though I've only been here a short time, I've made some great friends. They are now my family. The realization cheers me; I feel slightly energized.

Five flights of stairs and a trek down the hallway later, I'm lying on Butters' bed, propped on my elbows while he is sitting next to me, attempting to put my hair in tiny braids. It half-dried while it was twisted up in the clip, so it isn't cooperating.

"Um…w-why does your hair smell kinda like peanut butter, Ren?"

I look over my shoulder. "Well, our friend Kenny likes to fall asleep while chewing peppermint gum, and it ended up in my hair. Peanut butter apparently gets gum right out of hair." I watch as Butters' big blue eyes widen. "No, the story is not as exciting as it sounds. Trust me. I want to hear your story…so talk."

Butters stops braiding my hair and jumps up off the bed to reach for something on his desk. He offers it to me; it's a ticket stub for "Final Destination 5." I make a confused face. I never even knew there was a 2, much less 3, or 4. He cocks his head and raises his eyebrows expectantly, but I still don't get what he is implying.

"I don't remember a single second of this movie," he finally says.

I hand the ticket stub back to him and make a disgusted face. "Umm…that's probably a good th-" I finally understand. "Oh my God, Butters, you mean Tweek…?"

Butters looks down and rubs his knuckles together. "W-well, yeah. I mean, him and Craig showed up as we were goin' in and he kinda ignored me, but he made sure he was sittin' next to me an' all." He looks up and laughs. "He made Clyde move seats even. Boy, Clyde was so mad 'cause he said he always sits next to the wall, but Craig got him to move. Once the movie started and-and it got all dark, Tweek grabbed my hand and before the previews were even over we were kissing. W-we ended up leavin; and comin' back here."

"So…?"

"Well, you know Tweek, he got all nervous so we ended up just making coffee and looking through my music collection and playing video games."

I jump up and give Butters a hug. I can't help but be a girl right now; it's just too cute. "You guys are so freaking cute together! Did you at least get a kiss goodnight?" I sit back down on the bed.

Butters blushes even more, if that's possible. "I-it was more like a kiss good morning, but yeah." His smile is so big that his eyes are practically closed. He reaches up and rubs the back of his head as his smile slowly morphs into a disgruntled expression. "But you know, now I'm all confused. I, ah, like Tweek a lot but I feel bad 'cause I still get sad about Eric."

"Did you guys ever…?"

"Well, n-no, but…I-I've liked Eric since we were nine years old. It's silly 'cause I know Eric's straight an' all, but just as soon as I'd decide to give up on him he'd do something that would make me think he was a little bi-curious and I'd get confused again. N-now I'm not stupid, Ren, an' I know I don't want to do anything to hurt Tweek…but I feel like a part of me will always lo-love Eric."

I reach out my hand, pull Butters on to the bed so that he is seated next to me, and look him in the eye. "And that's okay. You might always feel that way. If you love someone, no matter what happens, there's always going to be a small part of you that…does. But it doesn't mean you can't fall madly in love with someone else." I smile at him and can't help but ruffle his hair.

"You know, y-you're right. I just hope that Tweek gets over bein' so nervous. I mean, I kinda like bein' the one to take care of him, but I-I'm not exactly the most…experienced guy. Bu-but that's okay, I get kinda nervous too and it's weird, but I like it! Tweek's comin' over again tonight, too, so I gotta get to decidin' what we're gonna do."

"Well have fun, you. Don't forget, you still owe me a night out dancing." I slide off the bed. "I'm so tired, I'm not sure I'll even make it down to my room. I'd love to stay but I need a serious nap. Call me tomorrow?" I really do need sleep, but I have something pressing to do before I let myself pass out.

"Sure thing, Ren!" Butters opens the door for me; always the little gentleman. "Y'know, I just thought of somethin'. My parents paid for me to have a single room 'cause they didn't want me sleepin' in a room with another boy, but that kinda failed in the worst way, didn't it?"

-XXX-

As soon as I get inside, I close the door and make a beeline for my desk. I rummage through the drawer and on the shelf until I find my prize: the student directory. I sit sideways in the chair and notice something odd. Lexus's side of the room is completely bare. Her pictures, her books, her blanket, all her stuffed animals…gone. I shake my head rapidly and let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. I should know by now that nothing in this town is "normal." I'm curious as to where my roommate and her stuff went, but right now, I need to complete my task before I fall asleep in this chair. I find the correct page in the directory and run my finger down it, stopping at a name. After unlocking my phone, I dial the number and listen as it rings.

"Hello?"

"Um, hi. Bebe?"

"Ye-eah." She answers hesitantly.

"This is, uh, Ren." I feel strange; even though Bebe and I are the kind of friends who can hang out and have a good time in a group, we've not yet reached the level of calling each other or hanging out one-on-one.

"Oh, hey, Ren. What's up?"

I take a deep breath. "You work at the Student Records office, right?"

"Yep, shitty boring work for shitty pay. Why?"

"Look, I know this is a huge favor to ask, but I don't suppose you could get a hold of someone's application essay…could you?"

Bebe sighs. "Well…I guess I…could, but that breaks every rule we have. I'm not even supposed to know that we have access to that information. The job sucks and all, but if I get caught doing something like that I'll get canned, and I'm pretty sure Raisins won't hire me back after I threw a plate of hot wings on Sarah Palin that time she visited town."

I try not to laugh at the visual and fail. "You th-threw…? Oh, wow." Bebe laughs. I need to focus so I don't get sidetracked. I can't believe I'm about to offer a bribe, but I need to get my hands on Kenny's essay. For some reason, I just know I'll understand him better once I read it. "Ugh, Bebe, I'm pretty desperate. Does the name Christian Louboutin mean anything to you?" I know she has a shoe fetish; why not tempt her with the hottest shoes on earth? I hear her breath catch.

"Seriously?" she squeals. "Okay…yes! I'll do it! But I don't work again until Sunday, is that okay?" The wait will suck, but I tell her what I need and finally, finally lay down.

-XXX-

Sunday is my least-favorite day of the week, next to Tuesday. It's just a quiet, lazy day, which never fails to depress me. Everyone is either busy with homework or working or out visiting family, and the silence of Blair hall presses at my ears. Even blasting Gorillaz through my headphones doesn't help; I can feel the silence. I need to find a way to shake my restlessness.

I jump up from my chair, tossing Emmanuelle on the desktop. I find a running skirt and pullover in my bottom drawer and grab a pair of striped tube socks from my basket of just-washed laundry. After locating my left sneaker under the bed, I grab my keys and plug my earbuds into my phone. I'm halfway down the hall before I realize I've forgotten a beanie.

"Shit!" I turn around and jog toward my door, suddenly impatient to get out and start running. Once my head is covered, I make a mental checklist to ensure that I'm fully equipped. Satisfied, I lock the door a second time and jog back down the hallway.

I make it down one-and-a-half flights of stairs before nearly crashing into the Resident Life Director, Mr. Mackey. He stops and starts to talk, so I pull the earbuds from my ears.

"Renata, right? I was just coming to look for you, m'kay? I have some news for you, m'kay, I need you to take a moment to come to my office…m'kay?"

I heave a sigh and follow him; it's not like I can say "no, I'm late for a class." I wonder what the hell is going on now. I'm suddenly frustrated; it's always something around here. I follow his huge head down the stairs and into his cramped office. He gestures to the chair across from his as he takes a seat and uses one finger to push his glasses back up on his nose.

"Well, you probably noticed that your roommate, um, Lexus, m'kay, is gone. She came to see me Thursday morning, m'kay, and signed some paperwork to sever her housing contract. Apparently she found a part in a Vegas show, m'kay. What this means, m'kay, is that you have a choice now, m'kay. You can pay an additional fee and keep the room as a single, or you can be put in the roommate pool and be paired with another girl…m'kay?"

So that's where she went. I don't even have to think about my decision. "I'll do it, I'll pay for the single. Just tell me where and when to go and I'll pay."

"Well, you can sign the contract here, m'kay, and the fee will be applied to your student account, which you can pay at the Registrar's office tomorrow, m'kay?"

I scrawl my name and escape, daydreaming about having a room all to myself.

-XXX-

The GPS program on my phone tells me I've run nine miles, but that can't be right. I feel like I've only been running for forty minutes. I double-check the time and see that I have indeed been on the move for about an hour and twenty minutes. I'm hungry and thirsty, and suddenly, a smoothie sounds amazing. I decide to change before I go to Tweak Bros, though, so I take the stairs two at a time and skip down the hallway. Running always improves my mood. I'm mentally singing along with Matthew Sweet, daydreaming about Kenny, so I don't immediately see Stan waving at me from the end of the hall.

"Ren! Hey! I was just looking for you." Stan is making a face that I can only describe as "looking to cause trouble." His black hair is covered with a grey beanie, and he's wearing a green shirt that says "pants" on it in white lettering. His fashion choices never fail to amuse me.

"Hey, I just got done running…what's up?" I unzip the little pocket on my skirt and take out my key. Stan responds as I open my door.

"I was wondering if you wanted to…holy shit, dude, what happened in here?" Stan looks at the empty left half of the room.

"Oh, yeah, Lexus apparently got a job as a dancer in Vegas, so she moved out. This is all mine now. Here, help me push the beds together into one huge bed." Stan walks to the other end of the bed and helps me scoot it out and sideways, so that the head is against Lexus's old wall and the right side is next to the desk. We move my current bed next to it, so I have one huge bed on one side of the room and a big open space on the other. "Thanks! This is much better."

Stan sits on the giant bed and lays back, staring at the ceiling. "This bed is so cool…you're lucky to have a single now."

I shoot him a look. "You know, you and Kyle could do the same thing in your room, I mean-"

"Nah, Ky would never go for it. He would call it a distraction or some such shit. Speaking of which, I came to find you because I was going to take a trip to the old library basement bathroom and I thought you would want to come along." He pulls a joint out of his pocket and holds it up like a prize on a game show.

"You? I would never have suspected. What are you doing with that?" I laugh because I'm half-teasing him.

"Cartman was over showing off his iPad earlier. It just kind of…fell out of his backpack when he wasn't paying attention." His expression and tone of voice clarify that "fell out" means "I took it when he wasn't looking." The dark-haired boy's big blue eyes widen and his voice takes on a pleading tone. "Come on, I don't want to go alone. And don't be so surprised, it's Kyle that's the 'good one' and even he's experimented. Remind me to tell you about when his family moved to San Francisco-"

"Okay, okay. Just…play a game or something while I change." I toss my phone to him and grab my clothes and shower stuff. "The passcode is 5656; check out the "World of Goo" game. I'll only be twenty minutes, I swear."

-XXX-

The "old library basement bathroom" isn't any older than anything else on this campus, but It earned the nickname due to its decrepit appearance. Janitors have been neglecting it since day one, probably out of fear of all the smokers and stoner kids that hid out there in lieu of going to class. Kids use it when they want to smoke a bowl without worrying about getting busted, and since they hang out there after getting high, the stalls are covered in epic graffiti. Stan lights the joint and gets it started before handing it to me.

I'm definitely not a stoner kid; in fact, I'm more a fitness buff than anything, but I do indulge on occasion. The familiar feeling hits me fast, and my next thought is inexplicably funny. "Wow, Cartman gets good shit," I laugh. Stan responds in kind. I notice a stylized drawing of a Power Ranger inside one of the stalls, and motion to Stan to come and look. Under the drawing are the words "Power Ranger from HELL!" When I point this out, Stan and I nearly fall to the floor laughing. It's funnier than it should be. He steps out of the stall, grabs my bag off the sink, and starts to look through it.

"Hey, pass that back over here," I say, indicating the joint and not caring that he is rifling through my purse. He hands it to me with his right hand, eyes and left hand still in my bag. As I'm inhaling, he utters an excited sound and holds up a Sharpie as if brandishing a tiny sword. "Ooh, ooh, give it!" I snatch the marker from his hand and walk over to a blank space on the wall. I draw one word on the wall in large letters, the three middle letters larger and in uppercase, so that it looks like this:

beLIEve

When I finish the last "e" I step back and cock my head to admire my work.

"Whoa, dude." Stan sounds amused. I turn my head and see him eyeing my word.

"Yeah," I say. "In every 'believe,' there's a lie." I notice that he is still holding my bag, and start to laugh. It takes him a moment to realize what has me cracking up, but when he looks down and sees the purse hanging from his shoulder, he starts to laugh and hands it back to me.

"I have a question," he says. I wait. "What's with the huge DJ headphones? I saw you with earbuds earlier, but you usually have these…giant…" he breaks off into hysterics and tries to mime the giant headphones by cupping his hands and waving them next to his ears.

"Oh, I love those. One, they just look kick-ass. And two? When I'm wearing earbuds, I'm telling most of the world to leave me the fuck alone. For some reason, though, it doesn't fully work—people still try to talk to me. The giant headphones are kind of like…a big middle finger, you know?"

The Legend of Zelda theme starts to play at the same moment my lightsaber text alert sounds. Stan and I share a confused glance before simultaneously reaching for our phones.

"It's Butters," I say at the same time as he is saying, "It's Kyle." I angle my phone so he can see it and he does the same for me. The text message on our screens is the same:

-Tweek is in Hell's Pass. Please come.

-XXX-

I hate the smell of hospitals. No matter where you go, whether it's New York City or South Park or Tahiti, the local hospital is drenched in the same odor. The smell of a hospital only evokes bad memories and fear, and I'm positive that I'm not the only one who feels that way.

After running from the library to his car, Stan and I grabbed some strong coffee in an attempt to sober up and sped to Hell's Pass, trying to distract each other on the way. Even talk about Kyle and Kenny couldn't keep us occupied, so by the time we pulled into the parking lot, we were both worried sick about Tweek. When we found the waiting area near his room with the help of the information desk, we were greeted by Butters, Wendy, Cartman, Kyle, and Craig. Nobody had any news, so we all sat in uncomfortable chairs and wrung our hands or flipped through old magazines. That was forty-five minutes ago.

Kyle jumps out of his chair. "It's been like an hour! Dammit, what the hell is wrong with these people; they won't even tell us anything!"

"Wh-where are Tweek's mom and dad?" Butters looks like he is trying not to cry. He keeps alternating between hitting his fists together and swiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

Craig speaks up for the first time. "They're in Phoenix at a coffee expo. I called them and they're trying to get a flight home."

Butters finally lets the tears win. I go kneel by his side and put my arm around his waist. "What happened, Buddy?"

"I-I don't know. We w-went to Shakey's with Eric and Wendy, and before the pizza even came, Tweek ha-had a p-panic attack. Like, worse than usual. He r-really couldn't breathe, and I had to c-call an ambulance and everything!"

I stand and lean over to kiss him on the forehead. "I'm sure he's okay, Buddy. Do you need anything? I'm going to find a bottle of water." Butters shakes his head no. I turn to ask everyone else if they want any vending machine junk. Only Craig answers in the affirmative, asking me to look for some saltine crackers Saltine crackers? I grab my bag but don't make it out of the waiting area; a short, pudgy doctor steps in the room and looks down at the clipboard in his hand.

"Are you here with Tweek Tweak?" We all nod and mumble affirmations. "You can see him now. He is stable and lucid. He's going to be fine, but we'd like to keep him overnight. Mr. Tweak had a reaction to the combination of caffeine, Ritalin, and cocaine in his system."

Cocaine? Tweek drinks gallons of coffee and takes Ritalin for his ADD, but he would never do cocaine. He's already twitchy and hyper enough. I frown in confusion and look at Stan and Kyle; Stan's expression matches mine while Kyle is frowning in anger. The doctor continues.

"The tox screen indicates that Mr. Tweak only ingested a small amount of cocaine, but combined with his condition and the other stimulants in his system, it became a catalyst for a severe panic attack." You may all go visit him now." The doctor turns and waddles down the hallway, no doubt on his way to the next patient's family or friends.

We start to gather our jackets and bags, but a choking sound from the corner of the room makes us pause. We all turn our heads to find the source. Cartman is looking down, coughing into his hands.

"Are you okay, Eric?" Wendy pats him on the back. He continues making the strange choking sound and hunches into himself even further. When he takes a breath, his body starts shaking, and Wendy steps back.

"God damn it, Eric, what did you do?" Cartman straightens and removes his hands from his face, uncovering the real cause of his strange choking sounds. What we mistook for a coughing or crying fit was stifled laughter.

"You guys, I thought it would be…funny. I meant to put it in Butters' 7-up so that they'd both…they'd both…" he has to pause to regain his composure. When he looks up, six pairs of eyes are glaring at him. "I figured they'd have fun being all crazy together. I didn't realize I put it in Tweek's drink; I'm not that stupid, I wouldn't do that on purpose."

Kyle crosses his arms and deepens his frown. "Cartman, that's the dumbest thing you've ever done…this week. Get the fuck out of here."

Wendy utters a disgusted "ugh" and crosses the room to stand next to Butters. Butters looks stunned. I just shake my head as Craig flashes Cartman his middle finger.

Stan points to the door. "Just go home, Cartman. Nobody here wants to see you right now. You're lucky we don't call Barbrady, but he'd just fuck this all up worse." With that, we all head to Tweek's room. As we walk away, we can hear Cartman whining, "Come on, you guys! I didn't mean it. I was just trying to make Butters have some fun. Butters? You guyyyyys!"

Tweek looks tiny in the hospital bed. He has obviously been sedated a bit, but he perks up when he sees us. Butters runs to his side and takes his hand. Stan, Craig, and Kyle stand at the foot of the bed while Wendy and I go to his other side.

After we all talk for a few minutes, a nurse sticks her head in the door and tells us that it's time for Tweek to rest. I smooth back his messy hair and then look over at Butters. "You stay as long as you want. I'll wait in the waiting room and drive you home." I look at the other boys. "Stan, will you get a ride with Kyle and leave your car here for Butters and I?" Stan nods. Butters pulls the nurse into the corner to ask if he can stay a little bit longer as I give Tweek a kiss on the forehead and motion to everyone else to follow me. We say our goodbyes in the hallway, and I walk back to the waiting room. Thankfully, Cartman is nowhere to be found.

Even though it is only a little after eight, I start to doze. I'm half-dreaming about nuns that morph into giant penguins when the sound of the B-52's singing "Topaz" lifts me into the real world. I grab my phone; it takes me a minute to recognize Bebe's number.

"'Lo?" It's obvious I've been napping.

"Ren? It's Bebe. Listen, I got Kenny's essay for you, but there's something you should know. Kenny's not really a student here."

"What do you mean? He goes to class—I've seen him. He talks about his philosophy class all the time, I don't…" I'm still in half-asleep land, so Bebe's words don't make sense.

"Yeah, I mean, he applied, got accepted, and enrolled, but never paid his tuition. So he can go to the classes and just kind of sit in the back and…learn or whatever, as long as nobody notices him, but right now he's not actually a student and won't ever get any credit. He has until…" she pauses and I hear her shuffling some papers. "..um, 10am tomorrow to pay a balance of $6017.27 or he won't get any credit for any of the classes he is, um, sneaking into this semester."

"Oh, wow, shit. That's…" I shake my head even though I know nobody can see me. "Can you just slide the essay under my door? I'm at Hell's Pass waiting for Butters. He's visiting Tweek. It's been an interesting day."

"No problem. Yeah, Wendy texted me. She is super pissed at Fatass. We're going for drinks if you want to come."

"I would, but after I take Butters home, I have to do homework and then crash. Drink one for me, though."

We hang up and I lift my feet up on the chair, bending my knees to rest my chin on them. Butters finds me asleep in this position twenty minutes later. After he assures me that Tweek is okay, I give him Stan's keys and let him drive home.

-XXX-

"I need to, uh, pay a fee for a single room assignment?" The girl at the window in the registrar's office gives me a bored look. "Renata Kinloch, Blair Hall 378. Mr. Mackey should have faxed over the paperwork earlier this morning."

"Oh, yeah…here it is. Okay, for the remainder of the year the single room will cost an additional…$2300. "

"Okay. Um, can I also m-make a payment to someone else's student account?" She eyes me suspiciously. "It's for Kenneth McCormick. He's…" I trail off. The less I say, the better.

"O-kay." She hits a few keys, long fake nails clacking with each letter. She frowns at her computer screen. "His balance is-"

"$6017.27. I'll pay that and the room charge with this." I hand her my credit card and driver's license. I just need a different receipt-"

"Obviously," she snaps. Wow. Who pissed in her coffee? She slides the card through the machine and hands me a receipt. I sign it and push it back in her direction. She doesn't say "thank you" or "have a great day" or anything, offering instead a scowl. I am tempted to pull a Craig, but I just turn and walk away.

As I walk out the door into the sunny Monday morning, I can't help thinking, "I hope I've done the right thing."

End note: So…this is turning into a novel, for real. I'm sure you can tell that some shit's about to hit the fan, but it isn't even the main conflict of the story. Wow. I'm long-winded, I guess…so if you're still reading, thank you. I have most of the rest already written; it's just a matter of editing and organizing. I wanted to put more in this chapter but it was already loooooong. I'll try to have the next one up tomorrow.

And I know, my pairings are cracky, but I like to push the envelope that way. I thinks Butters and Tweek would be a great pair. It would give poor Butters a chance to be the more dominant one (at least part of the time) and Tweek is just so darn cute he'd pair with anyone. It hurt to imagine him all sad in a hospital. I think I need to write a Tweek story next. I'd love to pair him with Kenny. But we'll see…

And thanks. Again.